It’s been a great two day holiday in Wisconsin with Liz, Shaun, and Jace, but it’s time to go home now, back to normalcy, back to my usual 300 something day lifestyle. The cheese that is made right here in Wisconsin on the many farms simply out bests “regular” cheese by big name brands.

With over four hours of Christmas music playing on YouTube that was projected via HDMI on the television, the lot of us opened up gifts and played some Apples to Apples (an updated version). Ate at the rustic Texas Roadhouse for dinner beforehand (where it is normal to drop your cracked peanut shells on the floor). I ordered a sirloin steak and grilled shrimp combo with Caesar Salad and mashed potatoes on the side, along with a frothy white margarita with a lime wedge on the edge.

I’m on the Amtrak train now heading due northeast towards Michigan, this time sitting in the seat that is in the opposite direction the train is moving. It’s a peaceful journey through the Midwest, the choo choo sound of the train’s engine a great reminder of how trains are still a classic way to travel. The view outside my window is all dark now with the occasional train racing past in the opposite direction that my train is going. The air is cool in the compartment and the car gently rattles on the track. Riding the train has become one of my favorite ways to travel now, obliterating my idea that the travel method was all but obsolete compared to faster ways.

There are 19 days left until Christmas and then all of this holiday bonanza and anticipation simply vanishes, the down spiraling crescendo often anticlimactic and underwhelming to say the least.

White’s Chicken is one of those restaurants I rarely hear or even talk about, being kind of lost. The marquee sign has always said “Delivery” in those small black block letters, with the iconic red arrow pointing towards the entrance. I had never eaten at White’s Chicken in my city ever, that is until today for some special reason. The food there, especially the main course chicken, is very authentic and fresh, maybe even more so than KFC. It’s an old restaurant, dating back to the early 20th century, and has been on that same corner for as long as I can remember, right across from the Dunkin’ Donuts. It’s a small and modest eatery, seating only about twenty with the kitchen area behind the service counter in plain view. The only other time I went into that place was to get a job application. I’m surprised that this place is still in business with it looking so down and empty all the time (according to my eyes) but they also have catering which helps bring in a lot more money.

The place is mainly served by one waitress, who today looked like she would have to work two jobs in order to make enough money to make ends meet.

White’s isn’t ancient but it may as well be with it being stuck in a perpetual time warp of the early progressive era. The walls and decor clearly scream 1920s.

I took some smartphone pictures of the delicious macaroni and cheese dinner that was made tonight. The cheese is so rich and thick, which I what I love in one of my favorite meals of all time.

The word “macaroni” comes from the Italian maccheroni, plural form of maccherone. It also has Greek origins meaning “a funeral food”.

Food historian John Dickie, in his book Delizia! The Epic History of Italians and their Food (2007), says that the word macaroni, and its earlier variants like maccheroni, “comes from maccare, meaning to pound or crush.”

The French fry is not at all a French thing. The name comes from either the Irish term for cutting the fries, “to french”, or from the American allies who, when they landed in the Belgian Ardennes, tasted the incomparable fried potatoes and called them “French fries”, French for the language …